


Your Rock and Pillar and Sometimes More

by swampslip



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: ?? - Freeform, Accidental Stimulation, Bladder shyness, Desperation, Injury Recovery, Masochism, Massage, Omorashi, Other, Situational Humiliation, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Watersports, Wet & Messy, assisted pissing, non-binary john marston, on arthur's part at least, slightly rough sex, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27990513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: "I… I gotta piss," John says shakily and it takes Arthur a moment to remember the younger can't stand on his own."Oh," Arthur croaks and sets his journal to the side, "Oh, I- Uh.""I'm sorry," John says and his voice is thick and wet and full of shame and Arthur's heart aches hearing it."It's alright," Arthur says slowly and rises walking over and crouching down to grab the small chamber pot from under John's cot, "How do you…?""Help me up," John whispers and struggles to sit up.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 86





	Your Rock and Pillar and Sometimes More

**Author's Note:**

> uh so as the first tag indicates  
> piss!  
> fjdbgjhb  
> cunt, slit, hole, nub, are used for john, cervix is mentioned

“Still _hurts_ ,” John bitches quietly as he lays back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling of the tent. 

“It’s gonna,” Arthur mutters as he brings over the salve that Hosea had passed off to him as he carried John into their tent. 

John makes a face and slowly looks over at Arthur’s who’s fidgeting with the little jar. 

“You gotta… Take off your pants n’ all that,” Arthur says quietly, not meeting the younger’s eyes, “You want me to step out?”

“What’s the point?” John mutters, “I can’t do it alone.”

“... Ah, uh,” Arthur draws his lower lip into his mouth and sets the jar on the little table next to John’s cot, “How do you want me to…?”

“Just take them off, Arthur,” John mutters and moves his hands to untie the laces on his trousers. 

Arthur doesn’t move for a moment then he leans over John and grabs the younger’s waistband, tugging down carefully and lifting each of John’s legs to free them. 

“These?” Arthur says, settling his fingertips on the waistband of the drawers and looking up at John’s face to see the younger’s cheeks flushed.

“Yeah,” John says weakly, “Gotta.”

Arthur swallows loudly and, when John doesn’t move to, he starts slipping the buttons out of their slots then pulls the drawers down just as gently as he did the pants. 

John tugs down the hem of his shirt to cover his crotch and squeezes his legs together with a small sound of pain. 

“Can you turn over?” Arthur asks, dropping the bundle of fabrics onto the foot of the bed. 

John hesitates, then, before slowly turning over, keeping the hem of his shirt pulled down as far as it will go. 

It doesn’t quite cover the curves of where his ass meets his thighs and Arthur averts his gaze to grab the jar of salve. 

“It’s cold,” Arthur warns as he dips his fingers into it and looks over the bruising on the backs of John’s thighs from falling backward over a felled log, “You gotta watch your step, kid.”

John mutters something into his pillow then gasps as the cold gel is smeared over the backs of his thighs. 

“Sorry,” Arthur mutters and lightly cups his hands over the bruises, trying to warm up the salve before he spreads it any further. 

John squirms lightly and his shirt rides up more, and Arthur’s eyes are drawn to the hair he can see peeking out between John’s inner thighs, not quite enough flesh there to fully hide the younger’s slit despite how tightly John’s knees are squeezed together.

Arthur drops his gaze to his hands as he feels guilt rolling in his stomach, leering at John while the younger’s injured, reliant on him. 

“Better?” Arthur asks as he spreads the salve down towards the crooks of John’s knees and the younger shivers. 

“S’not as cold,” John whispers. 

“Does this hurt?” Arthur asks as he presses into the bruises lightly.

“Bit,” John manages hoarsely and Arthur eases the pressure. 

“You think you could handle me rubbin’ these out a bit?” Arthur asks gently, “Probably gonna be real stiff tomorrow.”

“I- You gon’ make fun of me if I cry?” John whispers and Arthur makes an involuntary sound of insult. 

“Hurts that bad?”

“Real bad,” John whispers then swallows, “But you’re right.”

“Grab your pillow,” Arthur mutters, “You want somethin’ to bite on?”

John nods stiffly as he wraps his arms around his pillow and Arthur hesitates before pulling off his belt, trying to avoid getting salve on a good eight inches in the middle and folding it over. 

He shuffles up towards John’s head and John’s eyes look up at him as the younger opens his mouth. 

Arthur gently fits the leather between John’s teeth and waits as the younger gets a good bite in the leather. 

John dropping his gaze and nodding tiredly before hiding his face in the pillow.

Arthur shifts to sit on the edge of the cot next to the younger's hips and slowly digs his thumb into the top of the dark purple bruising.

Pulling down, slow and steady as John's back rises and falls with muffled heavy breaths. 

John makes a small whine around the leather and his toes curl in his socks against the sheets. 

"Shh," Arthur brings his thumb back up and drags down just to the side, "Shh, I got you."

John curses around the leather and hides his face firmly in the pillow, legs parting slightly as he squirms in pain. 

Arthur gently presses down on John's hips and continues to massage the muscles in the backs of John's thighs as much as he can until John's obviously shaking and silently crying. 

"Alright- I'm done-" Arthur says soothingly and helps John turn over, pulling his belt out from between John's teeth as watery brown eyes stare up at him, "It's over, I'm sorry."

John sniffs and reaches up to rub the spit off his chin and lips. 

"Thanks," The younger manages hoarsely after a moment. 

"No problem," Arthur whispers, "You need anythin' else?"

"I… No."

Arthur's brows furrow at the lie but he figures John's been through enough so he gently pats the younger's arm and stands. 

Gets himself ready for bed. 

\--

"Arthur?" 

Arthur lifts his head from writing in his journal at the whisper and looks over at John in the lantern light. 

John's staring at the ceiling of the tent, face flushed, hands curled around the hem of his shirt. 

"Yeah?"

"I… I gotta piss," John says shakily and it takes Arthur a moment to remember the younger can't stand on his own. 

"Oh," Arthur croaks and sets his journal to the side, "Oh, I- Uh."

"I'm sorry," John says and his voice is thick and wet and full of shame and Arthur's heart aches hearing it. 

"It's alright," Arthur says slowly and rises walking over and crouching down to grab the small chamber pot from under John's cot, "How do you…?"

"Help me up," John whispers and struggles to sit up. 

Arthur sets the chamber pot on the table and helps John onto his feet, the younger gripping his shoulders and trembling against him. 

"I think… It'd be easier if-" Arthur trails off hoarsely and turns John around, one arm around the younger's waist, holding John back against him, grabbing the chamber pot, and bringing it in front of John. 

John shakes against him as his chest hitches with a silent sob and Arthur squeezes his waist lightly. 

"Can you… Lift your shirt? Your leg?" Arthur whispers into John's hair and John hooks one hand under his leg and picks it up just enough that Arthur can fit the pot between his thighs. 

Lift it up and press it to John's crotch, his wrist against the thatch of dark curly hair. 

"Alright," Arthur says hoarsely and John's other hand squeezes Arthur's forearm around his waist as he continues to shake against the older man. 

"C'mon," Arthur whispers, "I got you, it's alright."

John let's slip a weak whine and the sound of liquid streaming into ceramic fills the quiet tent. 

Arthur feels like he can't breathe, presses his face into the back of John's head as the younger's sniffling gets louder. 

Arthur holds the pot steady as it gets heavier and the splashing sound dies out. 

John squeezes his arm harder and Arthur slowly moves the chamber pot away, setting it back on the table and reaching further, grabbing a cloth from near the washbowl. 

He brings it back in front of John and shifts his hold on the younger. 

"Here," Arthur says and moves his head to hover over John's shoulder. 

He watches, though it's not really a conscious decision, as John lets go of his arm to grab the cloth and his hand disappears between his thighs, hidden by the shirt as John wipes himself off. 

Arthur realizes he's hard when John drops his leg and leans back against him more heavily. 

John's still trembling and Arthur resolutely ignores his own body's reaction to this as he turns John and helps the younger lay back down. 

He sees John's red and teary eyes catch on the bulge in his pants as he's lifting his gaze to Arthur's.

John's eyes finally meet his, brows furrowed lightly and cheeks ruddy, streaked with tears. 

"Sorry," Arthur says roughly, "You good now?" 

"... Yeah," John whispers, "Can you get the blanket up?"

Arthur grabs the crumpled wool and lifts it up, dragging it until it's covering John to the chin. 

John looks at him with weak amusement in his eyes and curls his hands in the blanket, snuggling down into his bed. 

"Thank you," John whispers. 

"Course," Arthur murmurs and pulls back, crawling back onto his bed and setting his journal in his lap to hide his bulge from his own eyes and John's.

\--

Arthur's thinking about it, the next day, early afternoon and John's face is pinched and the younger hasn't relieved himself since last night. 

"John," Arthur says as he's bringing back a full canteen, "You… Uh, you gotta 'go'?"

John's eyes close tightly and his face scrunches further in humiliation and Arthur makes a quiet sound of reassurance. 

"It's alright," Arthur whispers, "Same as last night?" 

John nods roughly and lets Arthur help him up into the same position, his back against the older man's chest as Arthur brings the emptied pot between John's thighs. 

John doesn't cry, this time, but he still trembles and stands there for a moment. 

"John," Arthur whispers and his wrist flexes against John's mound, "I promise it's alright." 

John's head bows slightly and his hand moves down to lift up his shirt instead of grabbing at Arthur's arm, then he lightly nudges Arthur's hand so he's holding the chamber pot a bit further back.

The knuckle of his thumb is almost pressing into John's slit, caught on the edge, pressed into the wiry curls. 

The sound of piss streaming into the pot fills the tent again and John leans back against him roughly, turning his face into Arthur's neck and breathing out shakily. 

"There you go," Arthur says on instinct then swallows roughly and John huffs a small laugh against the older man's throat. 

\--

Arthur gets caught up in the storm as he's heading back to camp, passes off his catches to Pearson and jogs back to his and John's tent with his hand over his eyes. 

John's almost sitting up, trembling, and looks up at him immediately, tears streaking down his face. 

"Art- Can't- I'm gonna-"

Arthur moves quickly and grabs the chamber pot and helps John onto his feet and John grabs onto Arthur's arms and whimpers as he tilts forward, piss streaming into the pot almost sooner than Arthur can get it into place. 

"Jesus," Arthur whispers and John's nails dig into his arms and the younger continues whimpering softly as his hips tilt and his bladder empties. 

When it stops Arthur's frozen for a second, slowly moving the pot to the table and staring over John's shoulder. 

John straightens up and leans back against him heavily, breathing unsteady. 

"Sorry," Arthur manages after a moment, bringing his hand back tentatively with a cloth and John just squeezes his arms again, shaking, "Didn't mean to be gone that long."

John sniffles and is heavy and weak in his arms and Arthur swallows, slowly moves the cloth between John's legs to wipe the younger dry. 

John tenses against him then goes completely boneless, hands sliding off Arthur's arms to hang loosely at his sides. 

"Are you alright?" Arthur whispers, pulling the cloth away and tossing it to the ground with other soiled linens, "John?" 

"Stomach kinda aches," John whispers and his hand moves to his low belly and rubs lightly. 

"I'm sorry," Arthur says again and John shakes his head slowly. 

"You wanna lay back down?" 

John slowly nods his head and Arthur gently helps him lay down on the cot, fretting more attentively to help John right his shirt and bringing the blankets up, carefully tucking the edges around John's ribs. 

"Thanks," John says weakly and Arthur shakes his head, dropping to sit on the very edge of the cot. 

The younger just watches him curiously. 

"Is there anyone else you'd let help you 'case I'm not around?"

"... No," John whispers, "Maybe I should just move down on the ground."

"I'm not sayin' _that_ ," Arthur whispers thickly, "I just don't want you… Sufferin' or anythin'."

"... Stupid," John mutters, "A fuckin' branch."

"More of a limb, really," Arthur edges and John huffs then winces, "Y'alright?" 

"Just hurts… Tired."

"Yeah, take a nap, Johnny," Arthur murmurs, patting the younger's arm and standing.

\--

Arthur comes back to their tent with broth and a freshly cooled jar of salve, stronger than the other. 

He helps John sit up and gives him the broth before pulling the jar out of his pocket and letting John see. 

John makes a weak, reluctant noise before continuing to sip the broth. 

"Might help."

"Does help, I know it, but damned if it don't hurt like hell."

"Finish that first, then we'll deal with this."

\--

"Fuck-" John whispers after spitting out the belt, squirming hard against Arthur's hands rubbing the tightness away, "Wait."

Arthur's hands still on him and John just breathes heavily for a moment. 

"Too much?" Arthur asks quietly. 

"Sorry- Just… Wait, please,” John says shakily and presses his face into his hands. 

“We can stop, try ‘gain later if you want,” Arthur offers gently, moving one hand up to the small of John’s back through the shirt, resolutely not looking at where it’s hiked up, offering a completely indecent view of between John’s thighs. 

“No you don’t gotta- Just give me a sec-” John whispers, “Please.”

“... Alright,” Arthur murmurs and moves his hands to his lap, sitting on the edge of the cot. 

“Sorry,” John whispers, muffled by his hands and Arthur tilts his head. 

“Why?”

“I’m- I… Jesus, Arthur,” John scrubs roughly at his face, “I hate this.”

Arthur presses his tongue in front of his teeth and frowns softly. 

“Not you-” John whispers, “You’re bein’ so nice and I don’t even know why you bother.”

“... You’d do the same for me.”

“I’d offer,” John inhales deeply and closes his eyes, “I’d try.”

“‘Sides that… I want you to feel better, ‘cause I don’t like seein’ you hurtin’.”

John’s quiet for a few moments then grabs the belt and bites back down on it, hard enough he leaves grooves in the tooling of the leather. 

“Ready?”

John nods and brings his arms up, crossing them and pressing his face into them. 

Arthur slowly settles his hands back on John’s thigh and feels the younger shudder under his touch. 

“You’re better at stayin’ quiet than I am,” Arthur murmurs and rubs firmly down the back of the muscle, “Ask Grimshaw, I could hardly shut up when I got hurt.”

John hums quietly.

“Used to try and bear it, mean-mug anyone who tried to help me,” Arthur says quietly and gently nudges John’s legs apart to get at the knotted muscle near the younger’s inner thigh, “When I was younger than you, dumber, felt shame… Lettin’ people help me.”

John makes a small noise of pain and Arthur presses his lips together, digging into that knot, hands wrapping almost fully around John’s thigh, nearly able to encircle it. 

John’s legs flex next to him and John squirms. 

“Too much again?”

And John slowly shakes his head, so Arthur hums and manipulates the muscle between his thumbs, rubbing slowly. 

And John makes a small sound, his legs falling open a little more and Arthur’s eyes are drawn to the fabric of the shirt hem shifting and that’s when he sees the light catching in the wet between John’s thighs. 

Feels his heart skip a beat, dropping his gaze back to his hands. 

Swallows thickly and his fingers flex, only inches away from that heat and damp and Arthur moves his hands down further, towards the back of John’s knee, away from that temptation. 

Rubbing and squeezing and trying not to make it obvious that he _knows_ , John’s already embarrassed wouldn’t that make him more-

And, Jesus, what if he didn’t want Arthur helping him after knowing that he-

Arthur knocks those thoughts away roughly and moves to John’s other thigh.

\--

After the younger’s legs feel soft and loose he helps John turn over and washes his hands in the basin then goes and grabs a bottle of something strong from their stock, ripping the cork out with his teeth and taking a deep drink. 

Coughing into his sleeve softly then taking a deep breath. 

Arthur walks back to their tent as slowly and convolutedly as possible, taking a few more deep drinks of the grain alcohol before he’s even back in the tent. 

Fumbling with the ties to close them and walking over to his cot, setting the bottle down.

He looks over at John whose eyes are closed tightly. 

Noticing the way John’s fingers are fidgeting, clasped low over his belly. 

“You gotta piss?” Arthur asks roughly, tiredly and John flinches, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling of the tent. 

“... No.”

Arthur huffs and frowns and moves over to John, and it’s a bit mean of him, when he leans over John and presses his palm into the lowest part of John’s belly. 

The younger gasping and grabbing at his arm. 

“Arthur-” John chokes out and Arthur lifts his hand immediately. 

“C’mon, up,” Arthur mutters and helps John sit up, “Don’t get shy on me.”

“I’m not- I’m… I don’t…” John trails off as Arthur stands him up and turns him and holds him back against the older man’s chest. 

The younger curling in on himself but obediently lifting his shirt and leg.

And John trembles against him and Arthur gets why when he reaches over and brings the chamber pot between John’s legs and only to feel warm slick on his thumb, the mess of curls completely soaked. 

“Jesus,” Arthur whispers hoarsely and hesitates. 

“Sorry,” John whispers. 

“You got all worked up from bein’ _hurt_?” Arthur asks incredulously, “I saw but I-”

Arthur stops himself and maybe it’s the alcohol kicking in, making him loose and reckless. 

Maybe it’s that he’s tired of dancing around this strange energy between them. 

“You _saw_?” John asks thickly.

“Hm,” Arthur tucks his face into John’s neck and looks over the younger’s shoulder, murmuring, “When you were on your belly… Your legs weren’t closed- _Hell_ , even when they are, so skinny they don’t cover nothin’.”

“... Fuck,” John whispers and reaches down, wrapping his hand around Arthur’s wrist and pushing at the older man, struggling as his cheeks flare with embarrassment, shame. 

“John, knock it off,” Arthur huffs and shifts but John shoves away from him and stumbles. 

Ends up on his knees, trembling, head bowed. 

“John,” Arthur says softly, “It’s fine.”

And he slowly lowers himself to kneel behind John as the younger grabs onto the cot to keep himself upright. 

Slipping his arms around John and holding the chamber pot between John’s thighs. 

“Promise,” Arthur whispers, leaning his cheek on John’s shoulder, “S’fine.”

“I can’t-” John whispers, voice wavering just as much as his whole body is trembling against the older man and Arthur hums softly, soothingly. 

Then the older man slips his other hand’s fingers into the thick of curls, John making a choked sound and gripping the cot’s railing tight. 

Arthur slides three fingers through the slick and hair and burning heat to spread John’s slit open, his middle finger just resting over John’s nub. 

“Arthur,” John whispers and whines softly, “What are you doin’?”

“Helpin’,” Arthur mutters and turns his face to watch again, lips brushing the collar of John’s shirt, “C’mon.”

And rubs, lightly, the pad of his finger over John’s nub. 

John squirms, shifting his hips and clenching around nothing. 

Slick stringing as it drips from him into the pot. 

“C’mon,” Arthur whispers and rubs more firmly, back and forth over the bundle of nerves and John’s thighs squeeze around the pot, the younger breathing shakily. 

“Can’t-” John croaks and shifts his hands on the bed, reaching up to grab at his blanket. 

“You need me to make you?” Arthur murmurs lowly and John tenses against him then squirms and nods, “... Really?”

“Hurts,” John whispers and squirms and Arthur swallows thickly then moves his fingers back further, sliding his middle two inside John who gasps and whimpers. 

There’s slick dripping into his palm as Arthur crooks his fingers and searches for that tender spot, finding it and nudging his fingers into it. 

John’s hips jerk, rocking against his wrist and Arthur tries not to breathe too heavily, shifting their weight a bit then fucking his fingers into John, hitting that spot firmly, over and over until John’s shaking and jerking with quiet sobs. 

And Arthur feels hot liquid trickling into his palm, the older man humming his approval and pulling his fingers out, moving them up to rest on John’s nub as the sound of the stream filling the chamber pot overwhelms their labored breathing. 

John’s hips twitching through it, clenching and the flow stuttering when Arthur’s fingers flex, brush over his nub. 

The sound slows then trickles out and John slumps forward, pressing his face against the cold metal of his cot frame. 

Arthur slowly moves the chamber pot off to the side. 

“Please,” John whispers. 

“What?”

“Fuck me,” John begs hoarsely and presses his hips back, “Please, I’m so close.”

“... You sure?” Arthur whispers and moves his hand slowly between John’s thighs, three fingers against the younger’s hole, “Gonna need to stretch you a bit.”

“Fuck,” John whimpers and rocks back again, hole clenching around Arthur’s finger tips. 

Arthur slides his fingers into the soaking, sloppy wet of John’s cunt and breathes out heavily, moving his other hand between them to undo his trousers, shoving them down and pulling his cock out. 

Already aching, dripping, the thought of being inside that same tight heat as his fingers makes him groan, stroking himself lightly. 

“Please,” John whispers. 

“Shh, I know, just-”

“Arthur- Don’t’-” John breathes out shakily and shoves at Arthur’s hand, “Want you inside.”

“John… I ain’t exactly _small_ I don’t wanna-”

“I do,” John whispers weakly, “Wanna feel that stretch, alright? So _please_.”

Arthur swallows and feels lust and liquor swirling in his gut and it’s a combination strong enough to dull his instinct to _not_ hurt John on purpose or for some greater cause. 

He shifts his fingers out and guides the head of his dribbling cock to the younger’s hole and slowly starts to push in. 

John makes a choked sound as his cock pops in then keeps going, stretching him enough it burns and John grips Arthur’s wrist tightly, lips parted and eyes hazy, staring at the shadowed grass under his cot. 

“Oh Christ,” John manages, whimpers, clenching down on the thickness of Arthur’s cock filling him fuller than he’s even been, “Arthur.”

“Too much?”

“No- _No_ , s’good.”

“Yeah?” Arthur huffs and drops his head to John’s shoulder again, nosing at the younger’s neck, “You’re a funny lil’ thing, sometimes.”

“Shut up,” John whispers, “C’mon.”

“Yeah,” Arthur shallowly pulls out and fucks back in just an inch deeper. 

Then repeats that. 

And again, and again, and again until he’s as deep as can be in John, the head of his cock nudging against the younger’s cervix. 

“Close,” John says thickly and guides Arthur’s hand back to his slit, clenching around the cock inside him, “Really.”

“Hold on,” Arthur murmurs and rocks his hips a couple times, pressing himself against John’s back and reaching up over the younger’s arm to cover John’s hand where it’s fisted in the blanket, “Hold on…”

John makes a weak sound but settles down a bit, calmed by Arthur’s thumb stroking tenderly over his. 

Then Arthur inhales deeply and thrusts. 

Thrusts. 

Fucking into John until the younger is making weak sounds, jaw lax, spit dripping off his lips onto the grass, drooling. 

“Fuck- _Fuck_ \- Arthur,” John whines sharply then gasps, breaths stuttering as he’s fucked into and through his climax, slick running down Arthur’s balls and his thighs. 

Arthur grunts softly at the younger’s cunt pulsing and squeezing around him, keeping up the rhythm until John starts slipping, struggling to hold himself up, legs going weaker. 

The older man wraps an arm around John’s waist to keep the younger up then pulls out, grinding through John’s slick and gritting his teeth as his cock jerks and his come spills out, making an even bigger mess of the both of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie)   
>  [horny twitter](https://www.twitter.com/swampslip)   
>  [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)


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